p_ham
Well-known member
I drew a Muzzleloader bull elk tag for area 16 in NV this year. Normally, this is just about the best tag you could ask for in the state. I say normally because NDOW swaps the dates between the end of sept. And the end of Oct. This happened to be the October year, which I didn't catch at application time. My mistake, at least I got to go hunting!
I started weekly trips to the range, starting with a remington 700ml. I quickly realized that gun just wasn't going to cut it. I did some searching and decided on a CVA Accura v2. I installed a peep sight and new front blade and hit the range. Accuracy at last!
Fast forward 4 months, weekly range and workout sessions, gear loaded up, it's time to go! My dad and I camp out near a huge basin I scouted over the summer. There were rubs everywhere! At first light we were at our perch, glassing. Nothing. Not even a deer. We hiked further and further into the basin. The elk were definitely in there around rut time, but not anymore. We decided to break camp and headed the 3mi back down the mountain.
Second camp, more of the same. A lot of rubs, wallows and old tracks. We heard some cows chirping and mewing not far from camp at night, but that was all.
We broke camp again and headed south. There was an area we knew that historically held animals. Glassing just before dusk only yielded a couple deer about a mile out. Not good. Struck out first thing in the morning to a drainage we knew to be good. Nothing there either, just old sign. On our way back to camp we met another hunter who was also having a hard time. I thought he looked familiar but kept it to myself. It turned out to be Matt from Onx Maps. We compared where we had both been, and the lack of anything that pointed to where the animals might have gone. We talked for a while and exchanged numbers, promising that if somebody tagged out they would contact the other. Cell coverage was spotty, but available on the valley roads.
We left that area and went into town for fuel and showers. We decided to go to a small mountain range that doesn't have much access, but had a burn a few years ago. The closest two track to that particular area was about a 4hr hike over rough terrain. We decided to forego that punishment and headed to a trailhead to a wilderness area in the main mountain range. We spent the afternoon hiking and glassing, finally reaching the top after an exhausting hike. Beautiful bowl, sweeping around to the headwaters of a nice creek. Glassed until dark and went back down the mountain.
In the morning we broke camp yet again, by this time we were pretty fast at it, and went across the valley. It looked promising, tons of drainage, and water. There were a couple elk tracks going to some of the springs but it was mostly deer. On the way out we saw a coyote, the highlight of the trip thus far.
I decided to try some wintering grounds we found out about from some locals and went south. I was feeling pretty negative about the hunt at this time, almost ready to give up. Down on the valley road, while reflecting on what we were doing wrong, my phone starts blowing up. I figured it was either an emergency at home, or the mountain granted Matt an opportunity.
Matt had tagged out the day before, and came through big time. With phone service so sketchy, most of his pictures wouldn't download. One did though. A screenshot of a waypoint. I called as soon as I could, we each got about 4 words through and dropped the call. It was already late afternoon so I turned the truck around and sped back up the valley. We headed up the summit trail, hoping to not meet up with another vehicle, and racing the sun. We finally reached our spot near a 9yr old burn, as shown on the Onx app. It was 4:30. Shooting light in NV ends at sundown, which was around 6. My dad and I grabbed our packs, I unsheathed my Muzzleloader, again, and headed up the draw. It was immediately clear that we were in the right spot. Sign everywhere. Green grass poking up through the fodder. We agreed to move slow, and picked a spot where it looked like we would be able to see most of the draw. I slid my pack off, and set it where I could break up my silhouette. I sat down and almost as soon as I brought up my binos I spotted an elk, feeding 500yds up a finger. I motioned to my dad that there was an elk. Then there were two. I studied them intently waiting to see if they were bulls. One lifted its head, a nice 5x6 with number 6 on one side broken off. I could tell the other was also a good bull, but all the branches and trees between us, I couldn't tell just how big. Slowly I moved to the tree where my dad was watching. "If I can get to those rocks I might get a shot." I told him pointing to a small group a little over 300yds from us up the finger. He was hesitant to agree to a stalk. I knew this was my chance. I grabbed my reloads from my pack along with a headlamp.
I snaked my way down into the bottom of the draw. I moved across a small opening where a fight had occurred earlier in the season. The ground was chewed up, a small sagebrush torn to pieces. I made my way up the south side of the finger out of sight of the bulls. I moved as fast as I could while still remaining quiet. I didn't have a lot of time. 60yds from my goal I caught movement up the hill. I slipped behind a large tree and raised my binos. I leaned around the tree until I could confirm what I thought I had seen. It was time to get low and slow. I crawled the rest of the way, stopping every couple of feet. I found a small rock to use as a rest with possible shooting lanes. The burnt trees were thick where the two bulls were feeding. I was worried there wouldn't be an opportunity. I ranged a bull at 200yd and shouldered my muzzy. I watched the bulls through my rangefinder holding it just above my gun.
I told myself at the beginning of the stalk that I would take whichever bull gave me a shot. As the bull on the right fed his way to a shooting lane in dropped my rangefinder and drew back the hammer. He stepped across the small lane not pausing. I watched him again feeding his way across the slope. I found a spot where I could shoot through the tangle of branches, mindful of the trajectory of the slow moving bullet. I brought my cheek down to the stock and waited. I was surprisingly calm. I practiced all summer for this. I was ready. I followed the bull for his final steps while making sure I had the perfect sight picture. He stopped in the clearing just as I hoped he would.
I squeezed the trigger and a cloud of smoke and fire erupted from my muzzle. I heard the unmistakable THWACK of the big slug finding its mark. The bull dropped. It struggled to regain its feet but could not stand. ";!&#_ he must have fed closer!" He was at 160yd. By this time I was shaking so bad I was worried I wouldn't be able to get powder down the barrel. I was finally able to reload and steady my nerves. I moved up the hill where I could get another shot on the bull. The big 6x5 I spotted earlier stood watching me for what seemed like a long time but probably seconds. I found my bull thrashing in a small low spot not 20yds downhill from where I shot him. My Muzzleloader barked again and the bull was dead.
I started weekly trips to the range, starting with a remington 700ml. I quickly realized that gun just wasn't going to cut it. I did some searching and decided on a CVA Accura v2. I installed a peep sight and new front blade and hit the range. Accuracy at last!
Fast forward 4 months, weekly range and workout sessions, gear loaded up, it's time to go! My dad and I camp out near a huge basin I scouted over the summer. There were rubs everywhere! At first light we were at our perch, glassing. Nothing. Not even a deer. We hiked further and further into the basin. The elk were definitely in there around rut time, but not anymore. We decided to break camp and headed the 3mi back down the mountain.
Second camp, more of the same. A lot of rubs, wallows and old tracks. We heard some cows chirping and mewing not far from camp at night, but that was all.
We broke camp again and headed south. There was an area we knew that historically held animals. Glassing just before dusk only yielded a couple deer about a mile out. Not good. Struck out first thing in the morning to a drainage we knew to be good. Nothing there either, just old sign. On our way back to camp we met another hunter who was also having a hard time. I thought he looked familiar but kept it to myself. It turned out to be Matt from Onx Maps. We compared where we had both been, and the lack of anything that pointed to where the animals might have gone. We talked for a while and exchanged numbers, promising that if somebody tagged out they would contact the other. Cell coverage was spotty, but available on the valley roads.
We left that area and went into town for fuel and showers. We decided to go to a small mountain range that doesn't have much access, but had a burn a few years ago. The closest two track to that particular area was about a 4hr hike over rough terrain. We decided to forego that punishment and headed to a trailhead to a wilderness area in the main mountain range. We spent the afternoon hiking and glassing, finally reaching the top after an exhausting hike. Beautiful bowl, sweeping around to the headwaters of a nice creek. Glassed until dark and went back down the mountain.
In the morning we broke camp yet again, by this time we were pretty fast at it, and went across the valley. It looked promising, tons of drainage, and water. There were a couple elk tracks going to some of the springs but it was mostly deer. On the way out we saw a coyote, the highlight of the trip thus far.
I decided to try some wintering grounds we found out about from some locals and went south. I was feeling pretty negative about the hunt at this time, almost ready to give up. Down on the valley road, while reflecting on what we were doing wrong, my phone starts blowing up. I figured it was either an emergency at home, or the mountain granted Matt an opportunity.
Matt had tagged out the day before, and came through big time. With phone service so sketchy, most of his pictures wouldn't download. One did though. A screenshot of a waypoint. I called as soon as I could, we each got about 4 words through and dropped the call. It was already late afternoon so I turned the truck around and sped back up the valley. We headed up the summit trail, hoping to not meet up with another vehicle, and racing the sun. We finally reached our spot near a 9yr old burn, as shown on the Onx app. It was 4:30. Shooting light in NV ends at sundown, which was around 6. My dad and I grabbed our packs, I unsheathed my Muzzleloader, again, and headed up the draw. It was immediately clear that we were in the right spot. Sign everywhere. Green grass poking up through the fodder. We agreed to move slow, and picked a spot where it looked like we would be able to see most of the draw. I slid my pack off, and set it where I could break up my silhouette. I sat down and almost as soon as I brought up my binos I spotted an elk, feeding 500yds up a finger. I motioned to my dad that there was an elk. Then there were two. I studied them intently waiting to see if they were bulls. One lifted its head, a nice 5x6 with number 6 on one side broken off. I could tell the other was also a good bull, but all the branches and trees between us, I couldn't tell just how big. Slowly I moved to the tree where my dad was watching. "If I can get to those rocks I might get a shot." I told him pointing to a small group a little over 300yds from us up the finger. He was hesitant to agree to a stalk. I knew this was my chance. I grabbed my reloads from my pack along with a headlamp.
I snaked my way down into the bottom of the draw. I moved across a small opening where a fight had occurred earlier in the season. The ground was chewed up, a small sagebrush torn to pieces. I made my way up the south side of the finger out of sight of the bulls. I moved as fast as I could while still remaining quiet. I didn't have a lot of time. 60yds from my goal I caught movement up the hill. I slipped behind a large tree and raised my binos. I leaned around the tree until I could confirm what I thought I had seen. It was time to get low and slow. I crawled the rest of the way, stopping every couple of feet. I found a small rock to use as a rest with possible shooting lanes. The burnt trees were thick where the two bulls were feeding. I was worried there wouldn't be an opportunity. I ranged a bull at 200yd and shouldered my muzzy. I watched the bulls through my rangefinder holding it just above my gun.
I told myself at the beginning of the stalk that I would take whichever bull gave me a shot. As the bull on the right fed his way to a shooting lane in dropped my rangefinder and drew back the hammer. He stepped across the small lane not pausing. I watched him again feeding his way across the slope. I found a spot where I could shoot through the tangle of branches, mindful of the trajectory of the slow moving bullet. I brought my cheek down to the stock and waited. I was surprisingly calm. I practiced all summer for this. I was ready. I followed the bull for his final steps while making sure I had the perfect sight picture. He stopped in the clearing just as I hoped he would.
I squeezed the trigger and a cloud of smoke and fire erupted from my muzzle. I heard the unmistakable THWACK of the big slug finding its mark. The bull dropped. It struggled to regain its feet but could not stand. ";!&#_ he must have fed closer!" He was at 160yd. By this time I was shaking so bad I was worried I wouldn't be able to get powder down the barrel. I was finally able to reload and steady my nerves. I moved up the hill where I could get another shot on the bull. The big 6x5 I spotted earlier stood watching me for what seemed like a long time but probably seconds. I found my bull thrashing in a small low spot not 20yds downhill from where I shot him. My Muzzleloader barked again and the bull was dead.
